Break open A cherry tree And there are no flowers; But the spring breeze Brings forth myriad blossoms.
It may just be because I get homesick, but I have concluded Washington's cherry blossoms are just plain overrated.
The significance of the cherry blossom tree in Japanese culture goes back hundreds of years. In their country, the cherry blossom represents the fragility and the beauty of life. It's a reminder that life is almost overwhelmingly beautiful but that it is also tragically short.
In the cherry blossom's shade there's no such thing as a stranger.
We celebrate the cherry tree not for its efficiency but for its effectiveness - and for its beauty. Its materials are in constant flow, and all those thousands of useless cherry blossoms look gorgeous. Then they fall to the ground and become soil again, so there's no problem
Are we to look at cherry blossoms only in full bloom, the moon only when it is cloudless? To long for the moon while looking on the rain, to lower the blinds and be unaware of the passing of the spring - these are even more deeply moving. Branches about to blossom or gardens strewn with flowers are worthier of our admiration.
The oak tree: not interested in cherry blossoms.
From all these trees, in the salads, the soup, everywhere, cherry blossoms fall.
For in spite of the snapdragons and the duty millers and the cherry blossoms, it was always winter.
Loveliest of trees, the cherry now Is hung with bloom along the bough.
I want to do to you what spring does with the cherry trees.
On a moonlit night, after a snowfall, or under cherry blossoms, it adds to our pleasure if, while chatting at our ease, we bring forth the wine cups.
What a strange thing! to be alive beneath cherry blossoms.
The most precious gift we can offer anyone is our attention. When mindfulness embraces those we love, they will bloom like flowers.
Outside it's a perfect spring night. We stand on the sidewalk in front of our apartment building, and Henry takes my hand, and I look at him, and I raise our joined hands and Henry twirls me around and soon we're dancing down Belle Plaine Avenue, no music but the sound of cars whoosing by and our own laughter, and the smell of cherry blossoms that fall like snow on the sidewalk as we dance underneath the tress.
Between our two lives there is also the life of the cherry blossom.
I've seen spring come to the orchard every year as far back as I can remember and I've never grown tired of it. Oh, the wonder of it! The outrageous beauty! God didn't have to give us cherry blossoms you know. He didn't have to make apple trees and peach trees burst into flower and fragrance. But God just loves to splurge. He gives us all this magnificence and then, if that isn't enough, He provides fruit from such extravagance.
The first time I saw a fingerbowl was at the home of my benefactress. [...] The water had a few cherry blossoms in it, and I thought it must be some clear sort of Japanese after-dinner soup and ate every bit of it, including the crisp little blossoms.
The notion is called wabi-sabi life, like the cherry blossom, it is beautiful because of its impermanence, not in spite of it, more exquisite for the inevitability of loss.
I want to do with you what the spring does with the cherry trees.
or simply:
